


disenchanted

by makeshiftrolley



Series: The Dance of the Two Left Feet [5]
Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Custom Ryder Twins, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Therapy, how much of it is implied lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-12 05:41:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12952527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makeshiftrolley/pseuds/makeshiftrolley
Summary: You're doing your best, sweetheart.Jean recovers after almost dying on Meridian. Reyes helps, but he doesn't heal.The road to recovery is a long road, but the light at the end is always bright. It invites them to keep going.





	disenchanted

**Author's Note:**

> Like with all my stories of these two, Jean is a Ryder twin who wakes up early, and somewhere along the line falls in love with Reyes.

_You’re doing your best, sweetheart_.

Jean sees the note next to a pot of black tea, lukewarm as Reyes brewed it earlier before he left for work. The note is from him; Jean recognizes his writing easily. He smiles. A warmth blooms from his chest.

He sends Reyes an email.

_To: Reyes Vidal_

_From: Jean Ryder_

_Sweetheart, really?_

_-Jean_

He receives a message right away, and his heart thumps with excitement when he clicks Reyes’ name.

_To: Jean Ryder_

_From: Reyes Vidal_

_Good morning, sweetheart._

_See you tonight. ;)_

_-R_

Jean hasn’t felt this, this...shit what was it, _kilig_ since he was a damn teenager. Like a lovestruck boy about to have his first kiss, he saves it along with a photo of the note. He needs it when the days turn bad, and he feels the Archon’s breath on his neck, and he is back in Meridian, 2820 not in Kadara Port, 2821, a year and three months later.

Gabriela’s voice rings hollow in his ear, and SAM’s too and he’s bleeding. _Fuck_ , he’s bleeding...

Jean takes the pot of black tea, and sits on the balcony. Govorkam is as warm as the brown of his skin. He needs it, not the cold darkness of Meridian Control.. He reads Reyes’ note over and over again until the words are etched in his mind.

_You’re doing your best._

He calls the specialist.

\--

There is a holo of Jean in the bathroom from before, when his hair was fully black and wasn’t slicked back by electrostatic. It’s a standard Initiative holo, complete with his full name- _Juan Alejandro Elias R. Ryder III, open bracket,_ _Jean, close bracket_ and other details like his birth date, the Ark and his title, _Recon Specialist_.

(Reyes says his name like poetry, and laughs when Jean tells him the R in his name is _Reyes_ . Naming customs, Jean explains and his mother’s last name is _Reyes_.

They have a similar custom too, except his father’s surname comes first then his mother’s.)

The white streak sticks on his forehead. Jean combs it back up; the static prickles his fingers like tiny needles on his skin. A few strands hang loose, and he pushes them up to no avail.

His standard Initiative holo stares at him. Jean’s reflection on the mirror looks back at him.

What would he think? The Jean on the holo. That six hundred years after the holo was taken, he is kidnapped by the kett. In six hundred years, he almost fries his brain. That he fails in six hundred years, he _fails_.

And he runs. He runs because there are still kett, so much _kett_. When he sees them, he sees the face of the Archon sneering at him. And he lies to Gabriela because he doesn’t want her to worry about him. She has an entire cluster to take care of, Jean is just her brother.

He’d hate him, hate him for being such a disgrace.

“What’s taking you so long?” Reyes says from behind. Naked arms wrap around his waist. He feels Reyes’ bare chest on his back, warm and inviting. A pleased sign escapes from his lips, he is safe.

“Hmm...’m still getting ready.”

Reyes pecks the skin behind his ear. The one he knows is ticklish, and sends Jean into a fit of giggles.

“You know,” Reyes whispers into his ear, “you’re always handsome.”

“Even now?” Jean asks. His reflection stares at them both. The white streak is more crooked on his reflection.

“Even now.”

And Jean takes him right there. His hands curl on the countertop when Reyes slides in, calling him pretty names and telling him how he’s so good, _so so good._ He’s not. Reyes knows he’s not. Reyes knows how _bad_ Jean can be. Reyes _felt_ how bad Jean can be, and told him he loved him regardless.

Because he is worth it, worth every million stars and every galaxy in the universe. Because Jean is worth more than the ambitions and dreams his father molded him into.

And he is worth it now, ugly and bruised. Battered, broken but _healing_.

He _is_ worth it.

He cries when he peaks, ugly tears streaming down his face. Reyes holds him, and lets him sob on the crook of his neck. He says nothing. He holds him. That is enough.

The mirror fogs up so Jean doesn’t see.

\--

Gabriela visits one day for a fuel refill at the port.

She buys them both drinks. Jean declines his. He’s still not sure how alcohol affects the brain trauma he received in 2820. Gabriela understands and pockets the beer when Umi isn’t looking.

“For the next time we have movie night,” she says, “the beer on the Tempest tastes like piss compared to this.”

She laughs. Her hair is black and long, not the bright blonde short cut she sported since their 21st birthday. She stops dyeing it after Meridian, and lets it grow. Maybe, this time they can pass as twins.

Except Jean has a white streak cutting through his hair. The same streak he hides under a cap since Kadara will know. No one on the port has the same hairstyle as he does, and he’ll stand out. Reyes’ enemies have eyes and ears all over the port.

“How’s your vacation?” Gabriela asks. She calls it _vacation_ not wanting to disappear after almost dying on Meridian Control.

“Fine,” he answers simply.

Gabriela furrows her eyebrows. The lines on her face deepen. She looks older, even if they both turned 27 last March.

She holds his hand, “Jean.”

“Gabby, I’m fine,” Jean smiles. When Gabriela’s expression remains the same, he assures her. “No, I _am_ fine. I’m getting better. I swear.”

He is unsure if he’s telling the truth.

“So, how about you, how are your adventures?” he asks to change the subject.

Gabriela talks about all the Remnant sites they find on Meridian. She shows him holos of symbols similar to the glyphs the found all over the cluster. They have more intricate lines, and a complex structure in contrast to glyphs they found years ago.

He feels it, the swirling pang in his gut. It creeps from his stomach to his chest, and wraps around his heart. The same pang he felt when he argued with Gabriela over petty things; scolded her for not doing what Dad wants. When he learned Dad passed the role of Pathfinder to her. Not Cora, not him. 

“They may lead to the Jaardan,” she says, “but that’s classified information, unless-” she pauses, taking a swig of her beer. She continues, “-you come back on the Tempest.”

He clenches his fist, fingernails digging deep into his skin. He needs this. He needs to stay here and heal.

“No,” Jean exhales. “I’m better here.”

“Okay, if that’s what you want.”

Later, he takes her on the rooftops. Govorkam begins to set, painting the whole sky dark orange.

“I’ve never been here before. It’s beautiful!” Gabriela exclaims, “how do you know this place?”

Jean considers her for a moment. He watches the sun highlight the peaks gold. Maybe the same mountain he looked at years ago, when he was afraid and the future was uncertain. But Reyes’ hand was warm, and his lips fitted perfectly on his.

“I fell in love here.” He smiles.

Gabriela punches him on the shoulder. “And you never told me?”

“I didn’t even know if it was love at the time,” he rubs the pain on his shoulder. Gabriela hits hard.

She giggles, resting her head on him. “I fell in love while watching the sunset too. On a mountain.”

“Maybe, we watched the same sunset,” she says. Her voice is tender.

“Oh, _so_ that’s why Reyes said you were busy.”

“If I wasn’t busy, then you wouldn’t have been up here with him.  I think I deserve a thank you.”

“Thank you,” Jean says.

He thanks her for this, and for the times she saved him. He thanks her for being the Pathfinder he never was, he could never be. He thanks her for surviving when the odds were against her, for being the only family he has left in this damn galaxy.

He thanks her for being his sister.

“Do you ever think-” Jean stops, the words are caught in his throat. He breathes and tries again. “Do you ever think about Mom?”

A pregnant pause. Gabriela chews on her bottom lip, her eyes downcast.

“I do,” she says. “All the time.”

“We’re waking her up one day, aren’t we?”

“That’s the plan.”

It’s another thing Jean is afraid of, another thing that keeps him up at night. _Mom_.

What will she say? When she wakes up and sees her only son broken and bruised. What will she say? When she wakes up six hundred years past her due time, _cured_. What will she say? When the man she loved, the father to her children betrayed her trust-

They buried Ellen Ryder six hundred years ago. All her colleagues, her friends and family attended her three day wake in their villa in Malolos. They marched with her coffin from their villa to Barasoain Church.

She _died_.   

Gabriela smiles, genuine. She wants this. “Don’t worry, we’ll all be family again.”

“We will,” Jean agrees only because it’ll help him sleep at night.

\--

Dr. Jalarna Sarix is an asari therapist one of Dr. T’Perro’s acquaintances and the designated therapist in Ditaeon. A second-wave; Dr. T’Perro gave Jean her calling id when he told her he’s staying on Kadara.

Dr. Sarix doesn’t look up when Jean comes in. She knows it’s him. He visits her regularly.

She finishes typing on her terminal, and sits on the chair in front of Jean. She doesn’t ask; she folds her palms on her thighs and listens. He tells.

“Have I made a mistake?” Jean asks after he told Dr. Sarix about Gabriela’s adventures in the stars. He has made a lot of those recently, he just wants this one to be right.

“No, no, you haven’t,” she says, “I think it’s good that you chose to stay here.”

Jean buries his face in his hands. He grabs a fistful of hair, and makes a disgruntled noise.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m supposed to be up there with her. I promised!” Jean’s voice is muffled by his hands. “Now, I’m stuck here on this rock because I was weak, a coward.”

Dr. Sarix lets his sobbing die down before she speaks.

“You made the right choice. Believe me, I did too when I was your age,” she presses her lips into a thin line. “In asari terms,” she adds.

“I was young with my own commando unit, and I was loved by everyone asari space,” she muses fondly. “I was the hero until I lost my commando unit on a routine mission.”

She exhales hard. “I ran. Disappeared from asari space. No one remembers my name, and for years I thought it was better if they didn’t.”

“But it’s through running that I healed, and hundreds of years later with several medical degrees, I’m here helping others.”

“So-” Jean bites his lip. His hands tremble. “So you’re saying this can fi- _help_ me? And I’ll be back on the Tempest in no time?”

“Yes,” she says, “or maybe, you can staying here too. Sitting pretty in your castle while your _boyfriend_ rules over the land.”

He hates being useless, he tells the doctor. He hates sitting around in Reyes’ apartment-their apartment, sipping tea while he waits. On the Tempest, Jean reads mission documents in-between planets. The mission is always important. Sometimes, he tinkers with his turret but he left that on the Tempest, along with his rifle.  

Even if he asks Gabriela to drop it off the next time she’s at the Kadara, Jean is unsure if he can look at it without hating himself.  

Dr. Sarix taps on her blue chin. “Try something new. Maybe, it’ll help you find purpose.”

“Anything?”

“Yes, anything.”

“I could-I could try fixing engines,” he says, “I know how they work but I haven’t tried it before.”

“Jean,” The doctor shakes her head.  She takes his hands, “I mean try something completely different from what you do.”

Wanting to be a soldier was all Jean ever did in his life. All his needs and desires pointed at him being the Alliance poster boy his father always wanted him to be. The combat engineer who takes Alec Ryder’s legacy, his _namesake_.  

They spend the rest of the session coming up with a new hobby for Jean to try. He turns down most of Dr. Sarix’s suggestions because combat is what Jean knows. When he is conditioned to grow up one way, Jean didn’t have many interests. They dig deep into his childhood and find he used to draw.

Jean shows an old drawing he did of Gabriela and him as a teenager. Dr. Sarix smiles.

“Not exactly new,” she points out, “but it _is_ different.”

When Jean returns home, the blank paper stares at him. He has nothing to draw.

Half an hour later, it clicks and Jean sketches a line. The line forms into a block, then Jean draws small circles on it. They turn into gears. Soon he sketches diagonal lines on the object; it has iron material.

He stops.

He drafts more than he draws. He has an engineer’s hand, not an artist’s-the iron ring on his little finger tells him so. It's not what Dr. Sarix intends, but it helps him stop thinking of what if’s and what could be’s.

So he continues, deliberately designing them so they are improbable to use. The dimensions are exaggerated, and the degrees between the lines are impossible to achieve. It keeps him from focusing on the smaller details, and throwing away the piece when he makes a mistake.

The Jean from before would have. The Jean from before would erase lines before he finishes them because a segment is crooked. He would scrap near perfect drafts because of a small calculation error. A small mistake, a failure.  

When Reyes returns home, Jean has filled the living room with sketches of nonsensical designs.

“Should I get the engineers to build these?” Reyes asks while observing one of his drafts. Mechanics, he means mechanics but Jean doesn’t argue the semantics. They do enough of that over who pays for dinner or what they should wear for Keema’s parties.

“No, they won’t work anyway,” Jean says. “I made them just for me, to help me...not think. Therapist’s suggestion.”

“Oh.”

Jean glimpses a crack in his facade but Reyes covers it up with a smile.

“I’m happy it helps you.”

Reyes pulls him to a kiss. Jean does not ponder over that small glimpse. He hides his demons better than he does.

 

The morning after, Jean finds a note tacked on a box full of drafting supplies.

_For you, my dear_ it says in Reyes’ scrawled handwriting. Jean blushes. He sends Reyes an email.

_To:  Reyes Vidal_

_From: Jean Ryder_

My dear _please come up with better pet names._

_-Jean_

The reply comes sooner than he thinks.

_To: Jean Ryder_

_From: Reyes Vidal_

_Yes,_ dearest _. ;)_

_See you tonight. I have a surprise for you,_ dearest _._

_-R_

He groans but Jean archives the email anyway, along with a holo of the note, for when things go bad. He doesn’t read them as much as before but he keeps them in case.

Jean drafts more designs using the tools Reyes provided him. By noon, he has rolls of paper stacked in the living room. He scans some of them and sends them to Dr. Sarix.

_To: Dr. Jalarna Sarix_

_From: Jean Ryder._

_Tried your advice. Probably not what you intended but it helps me._

_(Attached are 3 images titled improbable designs 1,2 and 3)_

Jean has drafted three more designs when Dr. Sarix responds.

_To: Jean Ryder_

_From: Dr. Jalarna Sarix_

_I expected you to do figure drawings or paint._

_But if it helps you. Keep at it!_

_See you next time._

_-Dr. Jalarna Sarix_

\--

“Okay, what is this place?” Jean asks when he hops off the shuttle.

The settlement in front of him is larger than anything he saw on Kadara. A glittering pool is nestled at the bottom, shining a blue gleam at the house.

“Our little getaway,” Reyes says. He offers his hand. “I think we both need one.”

Jean gladly takes it.

The interior is more breathtaking than he assumes from the outside. The house is large, completely furnished. From the window, he sees the whole of Kurinth’s Valley. It truly is their getaway.

“I’ll fix something up in the kitchen. I’ll be right back,” Reyes says, and leaves Jean alone to wander.

Jean makes his way to the living room where a grand piano greets him. The piano looks new but has an older style from before the 22nd century. How Reyes found a house with a grand piano is as much of a mystery as how they brought the piano to Andromeda but the piano is intriguing.

He hasn’t played in years. Maybe he doesn’t remember it anymore; tucked away when he spent years chasing after his ambitions- _his father’s_. Jean plays the first few bars of a song he knows by heart-a haunting refrain.

Then...it comes back, all of it like a rushing river breaking through a dam. The melody seeps from his memories into his fingers. This is as easy as tinkering his turret, as easy as lining a target with his rifle’s scope and as easy as solving an intricate circuit problem. It flows through him like his biotics. Maybe it has been a part of him all along, waiting for a chance to come back. He neglects it because it was never part of his plan. (His or his father’s?)

When he finishes, he hears the sound of applause. He turns and sees Reyes clapping. The table beside him has two steaming cups.

“Didn’t know you play.” Reyes hands him the cup of black tea, hot not lukewarm. He takes the other mug for himself, coffee.

“A little.”

“That doesn’t sound like a little to me,” Reyes sits on a chair close to the piano. “Play some more.”

Jean does. He plays another melody from his heart, another haunting tune. He imagines the stars in the night sky, and it comes easier than the first. Reyes claps again when he ends, and asks him to play another song. A melody he and plays in a duet with Gabriela on the violin. He misses a few notes-Gabriela’s parts-but Reyes claps for him still. He continues to play for him, using the songs he recalls from memory. When he runs out, Reyes requests a song. A jazz tune he knows nothing about so Reyes sings it for him.

“You sing?” Jean quirks an eyebrow.

“I can still keep secrets from you,” Reyes says.

Later in the afternoon, he stops. He lies beside Reyes on the carpet, twining their fingers together. Reyes tells him a story of how his parents met, and Jean learns his father is as much of a hero as Alec Ryder is. Jean tells him of the first time he went to Barasoain Church as a child.

“Do you believe?” Reyes asks.

“No. Not anymore,” he stopped believing long ago. “Do you?”

“Some days, I do.”

Jean learns he recites the holy prayer on rough days. Jean has many of those. Sometimes he recites the prayer too, like his _lola_ taught him. Prayers helped her through the worse, when her only daughter-Jean and Gabriela’s mother-lay dying on the hospital bed.

(She doesn’t know. She doesn’t know Ellen Ryder is alive six hundred years in another galaxy. And the ashes under her tombstone in Malolos isn’t hers.)  

He tries to believe, tries to believe someone out there will make this easier for him. That his prayers do not disappear in the stars, and someone out there is truly listening.

He can’t.  

 

Reyes has him on his lap tonight. He is greedy, kissing and marking every expanse of skin he can. For the ones he cannot, he uses his hands to claim them. They are his, as much as Jean’s heart, as much as his soul.

Jean rolls his hips in tandem with Reyes’ rhythm. He catches him when he thrusts up, smiling when he feels how deep Reyes is within him. He knows he’s gone deeper; woven a piece of him through all of Jean’s layers.

He likes it this way, likes it this way the most. He likes how close they are that he can feel Reyes’ breath ghost his skin. He likes the way Reyes’ masks shatter under his fingertips, and leaves him completely naked to Jean. Reyes’ eyes grow dark as he claims him again and again, until they become one in body and spirit.

Maybe this is making love. Maybe all the times they fucked are poor caricatures to this one.

Reyes whispers sweet nothings in his ear, filling his heart. Tears stream down his cheeks; he’s full, too full of love. Reyes kisses them away like he kisses the parts of Jean that Jean loves and the ones Jean hates.

Because Reyes sees something in Jean that he hasn’t, and Jean wonders what else he has to offer when had little to offer in the first place. Outside his shell of ambitions and dreams, Jean has nothing.

But it’s still too much. His head spins from the headiness of their _lovemaking_ . It bursts through his skin as biotic flare, and wraps around him- _them_ like a cloud. Reyes gawks at him, mesmerized at the wisps of blue energy swirling all over him. He stops.

He kisses him, warm and tender; the static clings onto his hair and skin. Their lips always fit perfectly together as it did years ago on the rooftops. Reyes rocks into him again, erratic as he chases his completion.

Jean cries _Reyes_ against his lips when he climaxes. Reyes finishes inside him soon after, sighing _Jean_.

They lie on their sides, basking in the afterglow. Reyes runs his fingers along his side. He shivers, still oversensitive. Reyes drapes an arm across his hip and buries his face on Jean’s shoulder; his damp hair tickles Jean’s skin.

A thick silence envelopes them. Their quiet breathing, and the breeze rattling the window are the only sounds in the room.

“Jean-” Reyes begins and ends. What he wants to say dissipates in the thick silence hanging above them.

When Reyes is asleep, Jean turns around and curls along his sleeping form. He rests his head close to his heart, listening to the slow _thump-thump_ of Reyes’ heart. Jean is falling again.

They can never have what they truly desire can't they? Not unless the galaxies stop, and the universe shrinks to Reyes and him. No Initiative, no Collective or Kadara, and Jean is never haunted by the memories of Meridian.

This could be enough. This _is_ enough. He traces small patterns on Reyes’ chest. He stirs, and pulls Jean closer to him. Jean is safe, protected, _loved_.

He says it when their translators are off, in a language Reyes doesn’t understand; when Reyes doesn’t hear. In another time, he’ll let Reyes hear it too when they are more certain.

_Mahal kita_.

I love you.

\--

“Am I getting better?” He asks Dr. Sarix one session.

“I think you are,” she answers simply.

“I don’t think I have,” he says truthfully. When he progresses two steps forward, he feels he slides down the staircase.

“Maybe you don’t feel it but you have,” Dr. Sarix assures, “the first time you walked into my office, you wouldn’t say a word to me. Now, you’ve opened up a lot since then.”

She clasps his hand between hers. “You’re getting better everyday, Jean.”

\--

It’s movie night, and it’s Jean’s turn to pick.

Reyes complains about watching a three hour vid of Jean’s favourite webcomic or watching another one of his turian war movies or his telenovelas ( _teleseryes_ , Jean corrects him, and Reyes argues they’re the same thing.) So Jean pops in a romcom from a list Liam gave him years ago, an old one from the 2040s. Jean soon figures he hates the main leads. He spends most of the movie arguing with Reyes about the validity of their romance.  

“As if you know anything about romance,” Reyes says when Jean points out a flaw in the lead’s plan to get the girl.

“And you do?” He jests.

“I have you, don’t I?”

“You do.”

“So consider me a connoisseur of romance,” Reyes says. His eyes turn soft and mellow, melting into Jean’s heart. “I would have courted you the same way as he does.”

Jean hides his burning face in his hands. “No, you won’t.”

“Oh, I would, and you would have loved it.”

Jean agrees, in part because he wants Reyes to stop and the another because yes, he would have loved every minute of it.

The vid closes with a kiss from the main leads. Reyes rolls around so he faces Jean. His facade shatters completely.

"Are you still unwell?" Reyes asks softly, full of concern.  

Some days yes, and other days no.

Some days, the pain crawls into his skin and digs deep into his bones. Some days, he sees his image on the mirror and wills himself not to scream. Most days, he wakes up, sees Govorkam at its peak and smiles. He survives another day. Most days, he sits idly on the balcony. He watches the comings and goings of Kadara Port while sipping lukewarm tea. He is at peace.

"Yes," Jean says without reservation.

Because most days, he wants the ground to swallow him up, and some days he is calm like one of the lakes his family visited on Earth. And most days Dr. Sarix’s sessions help, and other days, they aren’t enough.

And some days, his designs come to him easy on the page. And some days, he scraps a page before he finishes, because he made a mistake.

Everyday, he _heals_. Even on the days he knows he is failing.

The road to recovery is an uneven path, full of bumps and cracks. It is a road that twists and turns until it stops at a dead end or breaks into a narrow path. But Jean takes it nonetheless for the light is always at the end of the road, and even if he never reaches it, he makes the journey worth it.

"I should try harder," Reyes buries his face in his chest.

But he tries enough, Jean thinks, tries more than Jean ever deserves. Perhaps that’s all he needs.

"You _are_ trying your best, sweetheart."

 

**Author's Note:**

> These are all Tagalog btw.
> 
> kilig - no equivalent translation in English, roughly means romantic excitement  
> lola - grandmother
> 
> Malolos is a city in the Philippines. Barasoain is a church there. Teleseryes are basically Filipino telenovelas. 
> 
> Find me on my [tumblr ](https://featheredfurther.tumblr.com/)


End file.
